To Never Be
by No pen names left
Summary: It's the final fight between the Alpha Pack and the Hales. It's not going well for them and Stiles has a sudden realization that if not for him, Scott would never have been here, his father would not have been pulled into this supernatural horror, and the people he loves might not be facing death. He makes a wish on the stump of an old oak tree.
1. The Wish

Stiles watched as Kali threw Isaac across the lightly wooded area. The young wolf seemed to soar in slow motion before slamming back first into a blackened oak tree. Jennifer had gone down in an eruption of blood and flying bits of flesh before ever telling them where she had hidden his father. Scott, eyes filled with the same emptiness of hope that Stiles felt, crumbled to his knees while the battle raged around him.

_It's all my fault. _

Deucalion moved with fluid grace toward him. His eyes, huge red orbs that filled his entire socket, zeroed onto Stiles' broken form. His knee had collapsed beneath him when Peter pushed him out of the way from the twins attack, sending him twisting across the dust and into the remains of an old tree stump. He had tried to stand but his leg wouldn't hold him, folding beneath him like balsa wood.

_It's all my fault. If I hadn't forced him out into the forest, made him look for a body in a crime we had no business sticking our noses in, this never would have happened. He's here because of me._

The cane came up like a sword, the red tip disappearing to reveal an arrow like tip. Looking at Scott he could see his friend's horror, the knowledge that he would have to watch Stiles die, skewered on a blind man's walking stick. Scott reached out as if he could stop time; freeze the moment in order to save his friend's life but Stiles knew there was nothing that could be done.

His hands closed around an exposed root of the old tree, the bark brittle and crumbling beneath his hand. Deucalion smiled as he closed the last few feet; arm pulling back for the final thrust that would end Stiles' life.

_It would have been better if Scott had never met me. My father would still be alive if not for me. I wish…_

The tip pierced flesh. There was no pain just a sudden coldness and the feeling that the air had been knocked out of his lungs. It was strange to see the cane disappearing into his skin and muscle when he looked down.

_I wish I had never been._

From the point where his hand touched the root a blue light erupted outward. It passed through Stiles like a whisper in a large room before expanding outward in a blast of light and power. For Stiles it was like a huge boulder had been thrown into a pond, a second of time as all the water is pushed to the side from the rock before rushing back in to fill the vacuum left by the stones passing.

Stiles was carried along with the light, pressed downward as space and time closed the gap behind him. The world tumbled and turned. Once as a child he had been caught in the rolling backwash of a waterslide. For seconds he had been lost, unsure of which way was up, which way to swim, until finally as the last of his breath had been used up he broke the surface and swam to the edge of the pool.

Much like that child, Stiles breached the surface of the storm of blue light, breath gasping into his lungs. The stars above spun in lazy circles as the energy flowed from his body into the leaves below. With the last of his strength he reached a hand across his chest to feel for the wound left by Deucalion's cane but only found the smooth expanse of his t-shirt. No rip, no wound.

Fingers curled in leaves where before there had only been blackened dust. Everything hurt. Everything was numb. He had a moment to wonder at the dichotomy of that before, sapped of strength, he slipped into sleep.


	2. The Result

The Result

He woke to the sound of birds chirping in the distance. Sitting up Stiles pulled his shirt up to check for the wound. There was nothing but smooth freckle spotted skin; no sign that he had been stabbed the night before. Stumbling to his feet, waving and leaning wildly until he pressed his hand to the stump of the old oak tree for balance, Stiles looked around the burnt out clearing for the rest of his friends.

There was no one. No sign of a fight or blood from the bodies that had fallen. With wobbly new born foal legs Stiles made it over to where Jennifer had fallen. Surely there would be some sign of the battle here. But the leaves were free of blood and gore, just the soft sound of wind that rustled through them.

Ice formed in Stiles' chest as he turned in a slow circle to look over his surroundings. The sun was rising, tinting the sky with soft pastels and crisp blades of grass were poking their way through the blackened soil at his feet. It was almost exactly like he remembered it from the night before and yet there was something different.

Well, something aside from the fact that there was no bodies littering the forest floor and he couldn't imagine that even Peter would just leave him lying helpless out here in the woods.

Struggling to get his bearings, Stiles started off in the direction that he left his jeep. Once he found his baby he could go back to Derek's loft and try to start tracing what had gone wrong and where everybody had disappeared to the night before. The sudden image of his father brought bile up his throat and he found himself heaving over the dry leaves. He wouldn't let himself believe his father was dead.

Jennifer had died, horribly, before she could finish gathering the power she needed. His father and Scott's mom had to still be alive. All he needed to do was find them and set them free. Hands fisted at his side, he willed himself to believe that because without a slim thread of hope he would be lost.

It was gone! His jeep, his pride and joy was missing and there wasn't even a hint of a tire track in the loose soil to show she had ever been there in the first place. The blood rushed to his head and Stiles had to lean over, gulping in great gasps of air, to keep the panic from taking over. His jeep hadn't been taken, it was like she was never even there.

Stiles heaved emptying foul burning bile as his muscles clinched and his stomach did its best to turn inside out. After a small eternity Stiles pulled himself up off the forest floor and wiped the tears from his eyes. Straightening his shirt he started a slow march to the nearest road determined to figure out what had happened.

This close to the preserve the road was just a two lane strip of asphalt with a fading yellow line. The edges crumbled and cracked sending out black tar-like pebbles down the steep shoulder. Stiles worked his way up gouging and blacking his palms as he slipped constantly up the slope. Once he was standing on the black surface he turned toward town and started walking. In his jeep it was a thirty minute drive. On foot, he sighed at the thought of how long it would take and wondered with a growing unease if anyone would notice.

He walked until a fine sheen of sweat covered him and the back of his mouth was feeling dry and cottony. His body still hurt, phantom pains from injuries he no longer possessed.

From around a long curve up ahead a police car appeared and drove past him. Stiles watched the officer pass and didn't recognize the deputy sitting in the driver's seat, which was beyond odd because Stiles knew everyone on the force, even the new officers hired to replace those killed in Jackson's attack on the station.

The squad car turned and made its way slowly back toward Stiles. Pulling alongside him the officer lowered the passenger window and called out, "You're a long way from town, son. How did you manage to get so far out?"

With a panicked swallow Stiles tried to come up with some sort of story. How could this unknown deputy NOT know who he was? Playing his cards tight to his chest Stiles answered, "My friends thought it was funny. I'm kind of stuck out here."

The officer frowned and opened the door for Stiles to climb in. "Shouldn't you be in school? Do you need me to contact your parents?"

"No! Dad's…" Stiles had to swallow the lump of fear. "Dad's out of town. I'm on my own right now but he should be back soon."

_Dear God let him be back soon._

The deputy nodded but didn't look completely satisfied with the answer. "Could you drop me off at the school? I don't want to be late." Looking down at the clock on the dash Stiles realized he had about twenty minutes to get to campus before the bell rang. Maybe there he could find some answers.

With a nod the officer picked up speed down the road. Glancing over at him Stiles cleared his throat. "Do you know a John Stilinski?"

"Deputy Stilinski? Sure. Is he a friend of your dad's? I could give him a call for you if you need someone to come get you and take you home."

There wasn't enough air. Little black dots swarmed his vision and the volume of the officer speaking seemed to rise and fall like the tide. His brain just kept repeating: Deputy Stilinski, Deputy Stilinski, Deputy Stilinski.

What the hell had he done.?


	3. Familiar Faces

Familiar Faces

Stiles was pale and trying to hide his shaking from the officer when they pulled up to the front of the school. The deputy gave him another once over, asking him one last time if he was sure that he didn't need him to call his father.

"No thank you. It was just a prank and I'm fine. My friend has my backpack so I better go find him before the bell rings." With a quick wave he made his way to the front of the school.

The usual students lounged on the front steps and under the trees. Once past the double doors in into the familiar halls of Beacon Hills High, Stiles felt the tension start to uncurl from his shoulders. There had to be some sort of mistake.

There was a commotion in the hall in front of him and a wall of students formed a circle laughing loudly and making rude comments. Pushing his way to the middle Stiles saw a mess of blond hair as a girl scrambled to pick up her books and papers that were scattered around her.

Dropping to his knees at her side Stiles quickly rounded up the loose papers and notebook into a rough pile and helping her shove them into the canvas bag from which they had tumbled.

"I'm sorry," whispered a familiar voice. Stiles was too busy grabbing the last of the papers to pay much attention. Some of the more vicious boys were stepping on them and twisting, tearing the paper beneath their feet.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. Just because a majority of the student body here are jerks doesn't give them the right to treat you like this." Catching hold of the last of the paper Stiles turned to place them into Erica's arms.

_Erica._

All Stiles' mental functions came to a stumbling, screeching halt. Erica kneeled before him, her messy tangle of hair and oily skin the same as he remembered from before her accepting the bite. Under his stare she blushed and tucked a frizzy strand behind her ear before mumbling a thank you and hurrying away.

The bell rang and the hallway cleared around him as students hurried to their classes before they were late. Erica was alive and still human. Stiles didn't understand how that could be possible but there she was unkempt hair and baggy clothing.

Backing away from the dawning realization of what he had done, Stiles back into a late arriving student sending them both crashing to the floor. A white inhaler skittered across the tile, coming to rest against his ankle.

"Crap, if I'm late again Mr. Harris will give me detention for sure." Grabbing the inhaler from the floor Scott took a quick puff, holding the medicine in his lungs for a second before exhaling. "Sorry about knocking you down. Are you okay?"

At Stiles' dazed nod, Scott smiled and darted off down the hall. Stiles walked calmly until he was outside the school and off the property. Then his legs took over and he was flying down the sidewalk until his lungs burned but even then he didn't stop. He kept going until he reached a familiar tree lined street and an almost familiar house.

The color was wrong, a shade too dark, and the dent in the garage that his father had never gotten around to fixing after Stiles' last 'oops' with his jeep and his brakes. But a squad car sat in the drive way and the name Stilinski was printed in small but bold letters on the mail box.

Light headed and leaden foot, Stiles made his way to the front door. The chipped paint was the same under his fingers but the mat was different beneath his feet. It was the boring tan one his father had wanted to pick out last summer before Stiles had talked him into the one that had "Fine Treat Me Like a Doormat" written on it.

Before he even knew what he was doing his finger was pressing the doorbell and he could hear his father's footsteps from deep inside the house. The door opened and Stiles stood face to face with his father who looked at him with absolutely no recognition and the last bit of hope in Stiles heart was torn from him with an agonizing tug.

"Can I help you son?" His dad's shirt was wrinkled and obviously the one he fell asleep in the night before. Stiles could smell the lingering scent of whiskey on his breath and was shocked to see how much older his father seemed. His eyes had dark bags under them and were slightly bloodshot.

"Mr. Stilinski?" Stiles' mind whirled with the need to come up with some sort of plausible story. Something that his father, or whoever this man standing in front of him was, would believe. "My name is Stiles."

His father's lip curled in a small smile at his nickname and his eyes crinkled with the familiar humor that he knew so well. "Stiles?"

"It's a nickname. My real name is Genim. Genim Stilinski." He watched his father's eyes widen as he took back a step. A flash of an idea formed in his head and Stiles quickly added. "My parents died and did you know there are no other Stilinskis in the United States? You're the only one and I just thought, I thought maybe we were related in some small way."

The tears threatened at the corner of his eyes and Stiles blinked them away as he looked at his tattered shoelaces. "Why don't you come in for a while? You look like you could use something warm in your stomach and then we'll talk."

Heart welling up with gratitude for the man that wore his father's face, Stiles stepped into the house. There were pictures of his mother along the walls, all of them poses he remembered from photo albums but they all were missing one common item: himself.

There was the picture of his mother at the zoo with the red balloon. In Stiles' home he had been sitting on her lap with a huge grin smeared pink from cotton candy. The next picture was a shot of his mother sitting on the couch wrapped in a large quilt. In his version he had been curled beside her almost falling off the couch with nothing but his mother's arm keeping him from going over the edge.

The hollow feeling in his chest deepened. "Your wife is very pretty." Stiles was surprised that he would even form words around the lump in his throat. There was a brief flash of hope that he would get to see her again, even if she didn't know who he was.

"Thank you. She died a few years back. It's been just me since then."

Following his father's doppelganger into the kitchen Stiles found himself sitting at his table while Deputy Stilinski made grilled turkey and cheese sandwich for both of them.

The first bite tasted like dust in his mouth and Stiles found that he could no longer keep the tears in check. The warm hand patting him on his back as he sobbed brought him little comfort. He was lost, set adrift in his own home and didn't know how he would ever find his way back.


	4. old Friends

Old Friends

Stiles' strangely comforting conversation with his not-father was interrupted by a phone call. He recognized the look on John's, _not my dad,_ face. Something bad had happened. Watching the familiar change from John Stilinski into Deputy Stilinski was hard. Stiles missed the sight of his father's badge and having a visual on this last piece of information was the last nail in the coffin.

_I'm not in Kansas anymore._

Stiles ignored the slight twinge of panic in his mental voice. He was going to hold it together and find out what was going on. Whatever he had done, he would fix it.

"Can I give you a lift somewhere, Stiles?"

Stiles gave John, _not my dad_, a watery smile. "I have a friend back at the school. You could drop me off there if it's not out of your way." With a quick nod he was ushered out into his dad's patrol car. It was an older model than the one he was used too and his picture was missing from the dash. The interior smelled of take-out burgers and greasy fast food and Stiles mourned the fact that without him in his father's life, there was no one to take care of his father.

The ride to the school was brief and Stiles sat quietly in the car for a brief moment wishing he could lean over and hug the man, even if he wasn't really his dad. A small rectangle of paper was shoved into his hand. "Call me if you need to talk again. Us Stilinski's should stick together. We're almost one of a kind."

"Thank you, sir." Stiles managed as he exited the car. "It was good talking to you. I needed to see a friendly face today." John gave Stiles a piercing glance and opened his mouth as if to add something but was interrupted by the police radio requesting back up to a residential address for a "one eight seven".

Knowing the police code for a homicide, Stiles stepped away and waved as John drove out of sight. It wasn't until the squad car had vanished down the road that he realized why the address sounded familiar. It was Isaac's old home.

Not knowing what else to do, Stiles pushed his way through the front doors of the school and followed the streaming crowd of students down the hall. He did a quick double take at Jackson leaning against his locker with Lydia, Allison, and Danny paying close attention to some story he was telling with animate hand gestures and his usual smirky smile.

Seeing Stiles looking at them Jackson snarled, "What are you looking at?" Looking away and ducking his head, Stiles hurried down the corridor toward the cafeteria. Jackson was still in Beacon Hills and apparently still a complete asshole. Some things hadn't changed at all.

From where he stood in the swinging double doors at the entrance of the cafeteria, it looked like he had stepped back in time. Boyd was sitting in his old spot at the far end of the room, his lunch spread before him taking up most of his section of the table. Of course everyone else was too intimidated to sit with him so he had plenty of room.

Erica sat huddled at a corner with a few other lank haired girls. They talked quietly among themselves while trying to remain un-noticed by the more popular students. When a student passed by their table they would all flinch just minutely as if waiting for an attack.

Scott sat at a table with a handful of other boys. He smiled easily and happily. His hair was still styled in the floppy cut from a few years ago and he lacked the air of confidence he had gained from becoming a werewolf.

Lacking any better plan, Stiles dug some money out of his pocket and joined the lunch line filling his plate with his usual order of fries and junk food. Wandering over to Scott's table he plastered his most harmless smile on his face and asked, "Can I sit here?"

Scott, bless his kind heart, immediately moved over a sit and motioned Stiles to sit down. Scott introduced the group, all boys that Stiles knew from classes but had never really been close to. A dark part of him felt relief in the fact that Scott didn't seem to have the same connection to these friends as he had to Stiles back in the other reality.

And that's when it hit him. Another reality. Somehow he had thrown himself into another place where he never existed. The memory of his last though, the one he had briefly had while staring down at the cane imbedded in his chest, came crashing back. He had wished that he had never been born, had never existed and somehow it had come true.

"You okay?" Scott asked with concern in his voice and a warm hand on his shoulder. Stiles realized he was on the verge of a panic attack and pulled himself back together with deep breathes and a half smile at his old friend.

"I forgot my inhaler this morning. I just need to catch my breath."

Scott smiled and fumbled in his backpack. "I have an extra that I haven't opened. See if it's the same brand that you use." He handed over his eighty dollar medication without a seconds thought.

_This is why you were a true alpha. You are so willing to give of yourself to help others. _

Stiles took the box and pretended to look over the information before handing it back with thanks. "It's not my brand and I'm not sure if the doses match up. I'm better now and I can just call my dad if I need it before the day is out. But thanks!"

Scott nodded as he dropped the box back in his backpack. The rest of lunch was like remembering a childhood memory. He and Scott chatted back and forth about favorite movies and comic. It was amazing how similar this Scott was to his old except for the missing memories of Stiles. He found himself almost stumbling over his cover story a couple of times and the bell alerting the students to the end of lunch came almost as a relief.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Scott called as he gathered his tray and headed off to his next class.

Stiles returned the jaunty wave but deep down he hoped he never had to see that Scott again. He missed HIS Scott with a bone deep pain that would never fade. Working his way down the hall, Stiles ducked out the back and ran across the lacrosse field to the woods. He felt better under the cover of the trees and shade, hidden from the world that was no longer his.

Dropping to his knees in the soft leaves he tried to think of where to turn for help. In the end he only had two real choices: Dr. Deaton or Derek Hale.

_I am so screwed._


	5. Old Acquaintances

Old Acquaintances

The bell above Dr. Deaton's door gave a hollow clang as he entered. "I'll be with you in a minute," called a soft spoken voice from the back of the clinic. While he waited Stiles looked around. Everything in the office looked the same, from the neatly stacked bags of dog food under the side counter to the framed thank you letters from happy clients.

Deaton stepped into the front room with a calm welcoming smile. Looking over the counter for a pet and not seeing one, it became even wider. "Are you here about the part time position?"

"I thought Scott McCall worked for you?"

Deaton's smile faded. "He quit not too long ago. His asthma worsened around all the fur and pet dander. I miss having him work here. He was a good employee." The smile dropped completely off Deaton's face and he took a step closer to Stiles. There was no outward change in the vet's body language but Stiles suddenly felt intimidated. "You're not here to apply for a job, are you."

For a second Stiles wanted to turn tail and run but he needed answers and a way to get back home. He pushed down his fear and unease as he tried to figure out how to explain all that had happened to him in the last few hours. But before he could start speaking Deaton tilted his head and took a closer look. "Do I know you?"

"No sir, but you should."

Deaton's eyes widened briefly and he motioned Stiles to follow him into the back room. It felt like a bubble popping around him as he pushed through the swinging half door of the counter to join Deaton in the back, as if the air had become denser momentarily as he passed. The vet gave him another unreadable look before walking deeper into the clinic with Stiles trailing uneasily behind him.

Keeping the stainless steel examination table between him and the doctor, Stiles tried to figure out where to start his story so he didn't sound completely crazy. The momentary thought that werewolves didn't' exist in this reality had him spinning in a flash of panic.

A thick length of yew, carved with symbols and smelling of mistletoe and wolf's bane thumped down on the table and Stiles found himself staring into Deaton's eyes which were colder and more cunning than he had ever seen. "What are you?"

"Oh thank God you said 'what'." Stiles felt the tension leave his shoulders and he slumped bonelessly over the table. "I was afraid you would think I was completely crazy when I started asking you about werewolves and alpha packs."

Deaton's body flowed backwards, his hands dancing in an intricate knot in front of him that reminded Stiles of ninja masters from old Kung-Fu movies. The vet paused in a position that looked relaxed but had Stiles doubting his own safety.

"Are you still them emissary for the Hale pack? Do you know Derek? Or Cora? Or hell, even Peter?" Stiles found himself back peddling quickly as Deaton came around the table. He misjudged the distance to the door and cracked his head on the wall. Blinking back stars he went cross eyed looking at the yew staff pressed against his upper chest.

"I'll ask you again. What. Are. You?" The normally kind face of the vet was hardened and stern.

"Human. I'm human. My name is Stiles and I was born in Beacon Hills but not this Beacon Hills. An alpha pack was attacking us, they wanted Scott and Derek to join them but there was also this dark druid, a durach, who was killing people in threes; virgins, healers, warriors, teachers, and then guardians. She was gathering power to kill the alpha pack. There was a battle and suddenly I was here, I mean still here, but not this here. This is still Beacon Hills but nobody knows who I am now, nobody remembers me and so many things are different."

Deaton's expression didn't change but the pressure on his chest lessened as the yew staff was lifted away. "Tell me more about the alpha pack." Crossing his arms the vet leaned back on the examining table without even looking. The man was crazy spooky.

"Their leader is Deucalion. He was blinded by a hunter named Gerard Argent and his eyes are all red and swollen. His second is Kali. She's scary as hell and in need of a pedicure or something. There was another named Ennis but he was killed and two twins, Aiden and Ethan who can combine into one giant wolf."

With a soft gasp Deaton reached out and pulled Stiles away from the wall and deeper into the back rooms of the clinic. The area smelled of bleach over a faint whiff of ammonia. Pulling out a small leather bound book Deaton flipped through it until he found a page. "Do you recognized this?"

The page contained the triangle like signal that he had seen carved on the door of the old Hale house. "It's the mark of the Alpha pack."

Deaton closed his eyes for a brief moment, his hand tightening on Stiles' bicep. "You need to talk to the alpha of the Hale pack and tell him all of this."

"Great! I didn't know if Derek was still staying in the loft or not and we never really got along even when he knew who I was. I was afraid that if I showed up at his place he would gut me before I even got a chance to tell my story."

Stiles' nervous chattered died as the strange look Deaton was giving him registered in his brain. "What? Did something happen to Derek?"

"No, Derek is fine but he's not the alpha of the Hale pack."

He didn't want to ask, he really, really didn't but heard his voice piping up with the dreaded question anyway. "So who is the alpha of the Hale pack?"

"Peter."


	6. Old Enemies

Old Enemies

It wasn't at all what he was expecting. When Derek was the alpha he had stayed first in the abandon ruins of his home before moving to a rat infested crap hole and then finally the loft which in Stiles' mind was still a shitty place to live with the hole smashed in the brick wall and its exposed pipes. But at least it had running water and electricity.

Peter had moved his pack into a two story house on the better side of town. There were green vines growing up the side of one wall and a cobble stone path leading to the front door.

As Deaton pulled into the driveway he would see a faint shimmer of light behind the thick curtains that hung in all the windows. The house was perfect. If Martha Stewart was ever turned, this was the type of place she would call home.

"I don't think this is such a great idea. What if Peter decides to…" Stiles made a slashing motion across his neck.

"Peter is not one to waste his resources. You have information about an Alpha pack that we have just now heard the faintest of whispers from. As long as you are valuable to Peter you have nothing to fear."

"Oh. You know that doesn't make me feel any better about this."

Stiles followed Deaton up the path like a man walking to his own execution, heavy footed and slow. He reached the doorway far too quickly for his own peace of mind. Deaton waited until he was standing on the porch before raising the door knocker, which was half hidden beneath a wreath of artistically arranged dried flowers, letting it fall with a ringing thud.

Derek opened the door after a few moments of tense waiting. Instead of his usual attire of black on black, Derek was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a blue button down shirt with the top three buttons left open. He gave Deaton a friendly half smile before turning his attention to Stiles.

The smile slipped from his face and the dour SourWolf look that Stiles didn't realize how much he missed until right then, took its place. Derek crowded into Stiles' space, pushing him up against the paneling of the outside wall and ran his nose from his shoulder to the side of his neck right beneath his ear. Stiles let his body stay loose, head tilted to the side and arms resting lightly on Derek's biceps as the older wolf sniffed him.

"Why do you smell like pack?"

Tears came unbidden to his eyes because he never knew he was considered by Derek to be part of his pack. It was heart wrenching enough to know and see what he no longer had in this reality but to discover he had lost his pack as well, one he didn't even know he had been accepted into, just twisted the knife a little deeper.

Stiles didn't care if he would be rebuked or, more likely, tossed across the lawn like a bag of garbage, he threw his arms around Derek's neck and clung tightly to him. "God Derek, I know you won't believe me but we know each other, you know me, you're supposed to know me but I messed something up and I don't know how to fix it."

Instead of pushing him away Derek stood rock solid as Stiles hugged him, soaking the shoulder of his shirt with tears. Slowly one warm hand moved to his back to make slow circles. "I'll help you if I can."

Pulling away Stiles wiped his eyes and nose on the loose sleeve of his shirt before giving Derek an embarrassed grin. "I'm not usually like this but it's been a hard day."

"Derek, we need to speak with Peter. Could we come in please?" The dark haired wolf stepped aside and gestured for them to enter the house. Stiles followed the darkened hallway, listening to the sound of soft voices from a room at the far end. Peter sat in a large overstuffed chair on one side of the room watching the news. A well-dressed woman lounged in a white fainting couch while two huge men took up most of the space on a sectional couch.

Peter raised an eyebrow as Deaton walked into the living room before focusing his attention on Stiles. For a split second he felt like an ant under a magnifying lens, like ever portion of him was being scrutinized while simultaneously being set on fire but the newscaster reporting on the death of a teenager ripped his attention away from Peter and onto the news program.

"In tragic news today, the body of seventeen year old Isaac Lahey was found in the basement of his home. The body, wrapped in plastic trash bags, was discovered in an old freezer after school officials alerted police that the young man had been truant for over a month."

The next thing Stiles knew he was sitting on the floor, his head tucked between his knees, while Derek rubbed his back and tried to convince him to breathe. Peter knelt close by with a glass of ice water and, what for a normal person, would pass for a concerned look.

"Is he someone you know?" Deaton asked from behind him.

"From **my** Beacon Hills. But he wasn't supposed to die." He looked at Derek with teary eyes. "You saved him, got him away from his horrible father. He wasn't supposed to die."

Derek choked out a small whine as he backed away, bumping into Peter's hip. Peter rested his hand on the top of Derek's head to both steady himself and reassure his nephew. "I think you need to start from the beginning." The alpha stood in a fluid movement leaving the water next to Stiles and Derek wide eyed and panting on the floor.

Deaton moved to stand closer to Peter. "The boy's story is hard to believe but there are things about him, ripples that are created around him, that lead me to the conclusion that he is telling the truth."

An arched eyebrow met that statement. "I am perfectly capable of telling if someone is lying to me."

"Oh course alpha." Deaton ducked his head in submission. Peter turned his attention back to Stiles, pinning him in place with his gaze. "So start by telling me how a boy that I have never met reeks of belonging to the Hale pack?"


	7. A Temporary Home

A Temporary Home

The pack listened while Stiles started his story from the beginning. Derek's eyes held unshed tears and he wouldn't meet Peter's sad, apologetic look as Stiles recounted how he dragged his best friend into the woods to look for half a body setting off a chain of events that would change their life forever.

Stiles tried to ignore the red tinted shine of Peter's eyes as he explained how he had used information from his father, the sheriff, to discover that the people being killed around Beacon Hills were all related to the Hale fire in one way or another.

He didn't expect to live past telling Peter how they had created a chemical bomb to set him on fire during the final battle and that Derek had slashed his throat open to become the alpha.

Panting for breath, Stiles waited for Peter to explode in rage, rip him to shreds and tear his body into little bloody pieces. He wasn't expecting the quiet question, "If I am dead, how come I can smell my scent on you?"

"You were dead. But then you got better. You used Lydia to drug Derek and drag him back to where you were buried. Something about a worm moon. I don't know how you did it Peter but it was creepy as hell having you running around all not dead and everything."

"I can just imagine." Peter stated dryly as he leaned backwards in his chair. Stiles started to continue the story but Peter held up a hand to stop him. Turning to Deaton he nodded. "I agree with you. There are too many things that he couldn't possibly know for him to be lying."

Deaton nodded sagely. "What do you plan on doing with him?" The look Peter gave Stiles was anything but comforting, he felt as though the alpha was measuring his worth with every flick of his gaze across his body.

"You're what? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Almost eighteen," Stiles answered.

Peter nodded and walked slowly back to his seat easing down into it like a king taking his throne. He flicked a finger toward the well-dressed woman who immediately sat straighter and gave Peter her complete attention.

"It seems that we have a new member, however unconventional he might be, in our pack. He'll need papers and documentation. Derek, tomorrow you will take him to the high school and register him for class."

"Hey, I'm not staying. There's no reason for me to go to school. I need to figure out how to get back to MY home. I don't have time to waste." The pack went still, Stiles wouldn't have been surprised to find that he blood had frozen in their bodies from the way they stiffened in place. But as soon as Peter looked at him fully, a cold glare that made his heart stutter, he understood.

"We don't know how long you will be with us and I don't want to draw unwanted attention to my pack, which now includes you. You will allow Sarah to forge your papers and go with Derek to register for school tomorrow like a well behaved young man or we will have issues to discuss. Do you understand?"

Derek moved and placed himself directly between Peter and where Stiles was sitting. "I'm sure he understands Uncle. With all that has happened to him, he most likely is just tired and confused." Reaching back Derek placed a warning hand on Stiles' knee and applied pressure. "You understand, right?"

"Yes Peter, I understand." Stiles faced the same Peter that had kidnapped him two years ago and threatened his life except this Peter had the full force of his pack around him and was settled and comfortable in his power. It was a Peter Hale that Stiles did not want to piss off.

"I guess you will need a place to stay while you are here and we figure out what to do with you. Derek, show out new guest to his room. I think he should be fine in the one next to you. That way you can watch over him and make sure he doesn't get into any trouble." This was a command hidden under that statement that Derek and Stiles both caught.

Derek didn't waste any time just grabbed Stiles by the hand and started to drag him toward the stairs at the front of the house. Deaton looked slightly uncomfortable but resigned as Stiles flew pass him on his way to his new room.

He had one foot on the stairs when Peter called him back. "A minute if you please." Peter could do polite on the most terrifying levels imaginable. "I'm sure Sarah needs your name so that she can come up with your documentation tonight. We'll need it bright and early tomorrow. I wouldn't want you to be late for your first day of class."

Stiles had a brief vision of Peter overseeing his nightly homework and shuddered. "It's Stilinski, Gemin Stilinski but I go by Stiles." Sarah nodded, had him check the spelling and then focused all her attention on the laptop perched on her knees. Stiles didn't need the gentle tug on his sleeve to remind him that he needed to get out of Peter's sight. He followed Derek so closely up the stairs that he could watch the subtle play of his muscles on his back.

"I didn't think it was possible for Peter to be any creepier," Stiles whispered once they reached the safety of the guest room.

Derek blanched. "You know he can still hear you," Derek hissed with a flash of blue eyes.

"Crap."

The next morning dawned much too bright and early. Derek dragged him out of bed and herded him into the bathroom where he found a new toothbrush and a stack of clothing in his size, the tags still hanging off them. He wondered who Peter had sent out in the middle of the night to go shopping for him.

"Stiles, you need to hurry along. I don't want you to be late for your first day of school." Stiles couldn't even begin to hold back the tremor that flickered down his backbone at Peter's voice. It sounded helpful and kind but was laced with such a sinister undertone that Stiles doubled his pace and was trotting down the steps mere moments later.

Sarah met him in the hallway with a thick envelope and then followed him into the living room where the rest of the pack waited. Stiles knew by looking at the stiff posture of the pack that they wouldn't be sitting down to a healthy breakfast before sending him off to school.

"From what I understand from your story and last night, there is a pack of alphas trying to invade Hale territory. In your reality there were two that enrolled in the high school. I want you to keep your eyes open for the twins during the day. Sarah has supplied you with a cell. If you see any of the alphas or this dark druid, you are to text either Rio or Zachary of their location and activities."

Stiles couldn't hold back the snort of laughter. He looked over at the two men standing behind the couch and smirked, "Do you dance across the sand?" The words were barely out of his mouth before his back was hitting the wood paneled wall behind him.

He looked over at Derek, who wore an expressionless mien but couldn't keep the worry from his eyes. "By in my world, this is usually YOUR thing." Peter cleared his throat and Rio let Stiles drop to the floor at his feet. Derek reached out a hand to help him back up and kept a hold of his wrist as they both turned the attention back to Peter.

"If we are all done playing for the day." Peter paused and turned cold blue eyes on everyone seemingly dropping the temperature in the room as he did so. "You will text with any information you find. Deaton is looking for a way to send you home but truthfully that is not on my priority list at all. I want this alpha pack off my land and the dark druid dead or in my power. You have knowledge to help me with those goals and as long as you continue to be an asset to my pack I won't stand in your way as you search for a way home. On your own time."

Stiles felt the heat rising in his face and wanted to snap back at Peter that he wasn't a puppet for him to just order around but the pressure of Derek's hand on his wrist increased reminding him of his precarious position with Peter.

Gathering the rest of his paperwork including a driver's license and a folder containing his forged school records, Stiles headed off to his first day at this reality's Beacon Hills High.


	8. The School Bell Tolls for Me

The School Bell Tolls for Me

Slouched in the front seat of Derek's car, a little Toyota for God's sake because somehow the Camaro had come to a tragic end in the last year, Stiles watched as students he knew but didn't know him walked into the front doors of Beacon Hills High.

"I have a stomach ache." He moaned looking over at Derek for pity.

"I'm sure you will have more if you don't do what Peter says. He's not cruel but he is very strict about his pack following orders and he doesn't give warnings." Derek ran his hand across Stiles' shoulders to soften the message with physical touch. So far this version of Derek was the only good thing he had come across in this version of Beacon Hills.

"I guess I should go before the bell rings. I need to stop and register for class." Stiles remained in the seat, scrunching even further down until his knees were wedged against the dashboard.

Derek chuckled softly. "Do you want me to walk you in? I remember walking my younger sister in on her first day of school. She was so nervous that I thought she would throw up before we got passed the stairs but by the end of the day she had made a ton of friends and loved it."

"Was that Cora?" Stiles didn't catch Derek's look of shock, focused instead on the ringing of the school bell. "Shit, I'm going to be late. Bad enough that all the teachers will have me stand at the front of the room while they introduce me but now I get to be escorted down the hall by one of the office staff." He was out the door and darting across the yard before Derek could get out his question that hung on the tip of his lips.

Registering was relatively painless but considering in the last few years Stiles had been beaten up by a geriatric hunter, faced off against many a werewolf, and fought off a durach, his pain tolerance was very high.

Mr. Stockton, the assistant principal walked him down the long hallway to his first period class talking non-stop about the wonders that were Beacon High. He questioned Stiles about his interest in sports and encouraged him to try out for the lacrosse team. "We could use a few more players this year. I think you'd enjoy it if you gave it a chance." Stiles just made 'listening noises' and tried to get the AP to walk faster down the hallway.

First period was English and Stiles braced himself to come face to face with Mrs. Blake but found the class was taught by Ms. McCormick, a grey haired battle axe that most likely first started teaching during the Civil War. She took one look at Stiles and sat him in the front of the class so she 'could keep an eye on him'.

Stiles had just finished reading the Scarlet Letter back in his own reality and was able to make some decent brown-nosing points by the time the bell rang. McCormick's smile was a bit more genuine as he left the classroom and headed for his next class.

"Stiles! Hey, Stiles wait up." Turning he saw Scott jogging down the hallway just as Jackson and Lydia came out of a classroom in front of him. Scott threw himself sideways so as not to slam into the power couple.

Lydia looked down at him as she flicked a curl of perfect hair over her shoulder. Allison came and stood behind her to peer at the floppy hair boy leaning against the lockers. "What, exactly, is a Stiles?"

"Uh…me. I'm a Stiles. Well, I am Stiles." Jackson turned the full force of his sneer in his direction but Stiles barely flinched. He had seen Jackson at his scaly, poisoned clawed worst and being stared at by uber-jock Jackson was a walk in the park compared to the lizard one.

Jackson took a threatening step into Stiles' personal space. Last year he would have stumbled backwards in fear but now he just let his eyebrow rise in his best moody-Derek impression and stood his ground. They stood staring long enough for Stiles to notice that Jackson's eyebrows were shaped and he wondered if the jock normally had a uni-brow when not manscaping.

"Come on Stiles. I'll help you find your next class." Scott grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the small group. He could feel Jackson's stare against his back but didn't turn to look, following in Scott's wake.

"You don't want to mess with them. Getting on their radar could make your time here miserable." Scott flipped open Stiles' schedule and smiled brightly. "We have the next two classes together: algebra and chemistry."

Stiles looked over at his schedule for the first time that morning and stifled a groan. Algebra was with a teacher he had never heard of before but chemistry was with Harris. He was starting to wonder if this reality could get any worse.

Second period went quickly and Stiles breezed through class. In his reality he was mostly in advanced placement classes but here he was placed in regular classes. If he was planning on staying he would have worried about becoming bored but he wasn't staying, he was going home no matter what. He didn't even want to think about being stuck here in a world where his father didn't know him and his best friend was almost a stranger.

The bell rang and Stiles trudged along behind Scott to chemistry as if he was going to his own execution. Scott stopped at Harris' desk with a bright smile. "Mr. Harris this is Stiles. He's new."

Harris stood with a small smile and welcomed Stiles to class without any of the sarcasm or veiled threats he was accustomed to when dealing with his chemistry teacher. "Let me get you a book and a copy of this week's notes while you find a seat."

Stiles sat next to Scott, light headed from the shock of a pleasant Mr. Harris who returned moments later with a book and his personal notes. "I'm sure it's difficult to move to a new school in the middle of the year. If you need any help you can see me at the end of the day. I'll be glad to help you catch up."

Managing a mostly incoherent "arugh-kay" Stiles ducked his head and tapped his red sneakers together three times under his desk. Wondering briefly if a bucket of glitter would help, he tried to focus on the lesson while digging for information from Scott.

By the time the lesson was over he discovered three things: there was no evil manifestations at the school (alpha pack or durach), Mr. Harris REALLY did hate him in his other life because in this reality he was downright pleasant, and Scott still was in love with Allison Argent.

"She moved to Beacon Hills last year and sat behind me in English. I gave her a pen and she just smiled at me with this perfect, awesome smile. But then she met Lydia and became part of that group." By the end of the period Stiles had a new respect for his best friend, the one back in his reality, for putting up with his monologues of the 'perfection that was and still is Lydia'. He was surprised that his ears had not started bleeding or that he hadn't fallen into a coma from all the sweetness that permeated the air around Scott as he talked about Allison.

"She's had a really tough time here. Not too long ago her father and aunt were killed by a mountain lion. The police said it must have been sick or wounded to come so close to the city and attack people. Now Allison lives with her mother and her grandfather in a big house on the other side of town."

By the time lunch rolled around, Stiles' head was spinning. It was getting harder and harder to keep his facts separated. He kept slipping with Scott, letting some of his knowledge about the teen out in their conversations throughout the day. Lucky for him Scott was easily reassured with an offhanded "doesn't everyone like that" comment when he was caught knowing too much.

Scott led him to his usual table and Stiles found himself surrounded once more by Scott's friends. This Scott had more friends but none of them seemed as close as Stiles and his old Scott were which made him feel both better and worse.

Looking around the cafeteria Stiles spotted many familiar faces. Lydia, Jackson and Allison ruled the center table encircled by a wall of hangers-on. Erica slumped to her table with a few other girls, hunched and quiet so as not to draw attention to her. At a far corner, at a table on his own, sat Boyd. It was good to see him alive. This reality hadn't been kind to Isaac but at least here Erica and Boyd got to live.

Stiles shook off the bad feelings and just pretended for a moment that this was his world and the Scott sitting next to him, bumping his shoulder with the punch line of a silly joke, was HIS Scott. Everything was almost perfect, almost right but in the end they weren't his family or friends and Stiles despaired for a moment that he would never get back home.


	9. Pancakes with Derek

Pancakes with Derek

Stiles woke, groggy and heavy eyed, at the soft touch of a hand to his shoulder. Derek sat on the edge of his bed shaking him gently. "If you hurry we can stop someplace and get breakfast before you have to go to school."

"Pancakes?" That's what he meant to say but coming from under a pillow it was more of a garbled moan.

Derek, werewolf super-hearing and all, seemed to understand just find and chuckled. "Yes, pancakes. There's a wonderful diner near the school that serves a great breakfast."

Stiles knew exactly the one he was talking about. He hadn't been there in years, not because the food was bad, it was more because the diner held memories so precious that they were now painful. Memories of his mother and father laughing together as they shared a stack of pancakes. Memories of him happy and full of sugar and the knowledge that he was loved by his parents. Memories from before his mother had become so thin and pale that she was unable to leave the hospital. He hadn't been back since.

Turning toward Derek and letting the wolf pull the pillow off his head, Stiles could only blink as Derek ran his fingers through his hair, letting his thumb trail along his cheek. "You'll love Margo's pancakes." He smiled, not the fake, dazzling white one that Stiles had seen and been terrified by, but a small warm one that made his heart turn a funny flip in his chest.

"Okay. Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be ready." Without waiting for a reply, Stiles rolled out of bed, needing a last minute save from Derek as he tangled in the sheets and was inches from a face plant on the floor, and headed for the shower. Ten minutes later he was hopping into his jeans, hair still wet and sticking up in hedgehog spikes, as he trotted down the stairs.

Derek looked perfect. He shaved more in this reality, not wearing the expected five o'clock shadow or dark leather jacket. Leaning with one hip resting on the back of the couch wearing an old pair of jeans, gone soft with age, and a crisp blue button up over a white tee. His hair was softer, no copious amounts of product making it stiff and he was missing his usual defensiveness that he used as almost a weapon to keep others away.

Holding out Stiles' backpack, Derek motioned for him to go first following closely behind and letting his hand rest on the small of his back as they walked across the lawn toward the cars. He even opened the door which had Stiles stuttering in shock for a moment or two before snapping his mouth shut and getting inside.

Margo's was exactly as he remembered it. Betty, the waitress that had served them every Saturday until his mother got sick, was still working. A little plumper and greyer but she still had the same welcoming warm smile and bounce to her step.

"Derek," she cooed. "It's good to see you. I haven't seen you in months." The beta ducked his head, almost shyly, and mumbled about being busier recently. "That uncle of yours works you too hard. I'm glad you still have some family after losing Laura but Peter is not your boss. You need to get out more. A boy your age should be running after a pretty girl," Betty eyed Stiles over Derek's shoulder and added with a knowing smile. "Or a pretty boy."

Derek went beet red and hurried to a booth while Stiles trailed along. Betty slid the menus across the table which Derek immediately hid behind and announced the mornings specials.

Stiles ordered coffee and the cinnamon pancakes, a rich concoction of pancakes with creamy cinnamon sauce covered in cream cheese icing. It was a heavenly combination of cinnamon rolls and pancakes which he didn't realize how much he had missed until just that second.

Derek ordered a tall stack of blueberry pancakes and chocolate milk. Stiles couldn't hide his surprised smile. Dark eyebrows shot up in what was in Stiles' reality a classic Derek scowl. "What? How can you NOT have chocolate milk with pancakes?"

"I'm not saying anything. I'd rather you not rip my throat out with your teeth or something." Stiles said it jokingly but Derek's face fell.

"We aren't friends, are we? In your world. You don't like me very much." Stiles paused, and then waited while Betty brought their drinks. He scooped in four spoons full of sugar and six little pull top cups of cream. "You say you have ADD. Are you sure it's not just a constant sugar high?" Derek asked watching Stiles take a sip of the mostly sugar concoction.

"I've never liked the after-taste of coffee and sugar masks it." Looking over to see that Betty was busy with other customers before answering Derek's first question, Stiles grimaced. "You've never really given me a chance to like you, the other you. At first we thought you killed Laura." At Derek's soft hiss of breath Stiles reached and caught his hand under his own. "Sorry, sorry but at the time there were all these deaths and you were walking around in a black leather jacket with a perpetual scowl on your face and it was easy to jump to the wrong conclusions."

"Later, after we all killed Peter, you turned all red eyed "I'm the alpha" and started turning high schoolers into your betas, Jackson turned into a giant murderous lizard, and you didn't do much more than growl at me even after I spent two hours keeping you from drowning in the pool. So it's not so much that I don't like you, I'm pretty sure that it's you that don't like me."

Derek stared at Stiles' hand for the entire speech. When Stiles finished Derek rotated his palm so that he could gently clasp Stiles' hand. "I don't see how that is possible. I can't imagine any reality where I didn't feel a pull toward you."

Stiles found himself struggling to swallow, his mouth dry and warm pulse of WANT rolling through his belly, as he curled his fingers tighter around Derek's.

"Cinnamon pancakes for you and blueberry for you." Betty's voice was warm and playful as she placed the plates around their linked hands. "You boys wave if you need anything but until then I'll give you some space."

Derek's ears turned red and Stiles knew that his own blush most likely covered his whole body. They both dug into their pancakes and let a tense silence fall between them. Stiles was about half way through his stack when Derek's foot brushed up against his leg. After that there was a whole new level of tension between them.

"I'm not staying here." Stiles blurted. Seeing Derek's confused face he added, "I have to find a way back to my Beacon Hills. I don't want, well I do want but I would hate to hurt you."

Smiling as if he understood Stiles' ramble, Derek nodded. "Let's just take it one day at a time. See where this takes us and what happens down the road."

"Down the road I'll be gone."

"So I better make this time count. I've learned to gather my happiness when I can Stiles."

Not having anything to say to that, Stiles concentrated on his pancakes and letting his feet tangle under the table with Derek's. He was so different, softer and kinder, much more open and willing to admit to having feelings. Stiles didn't know how to deal with this Derek but he was willing to give it his best try.

Walking next to Derek, their hands intertwined Stiles felt a true smile curl on his lips. For the first time since he had discovered himself in this twisted reality, he found himself willing to stay maybe just a bit longer.


	10. Making a Name for Himself

Making a Name for Himself

Giving Derek's hand a quick squeeze good-bye, Stiles hopped out of the car and hurried into the school building seconds before the first bell rang. Everything he needed for the first couple of periods was tucked inside his backpack so he didn't even have to stop by his locker which in hindsight was maybe a mistake.

He didn't even see it coming. One minute he was power walking down the hall to first period and the next he was being slammed hard enough into a pair of lockers that the thin metal gave way beneath his shoulders.

Jackson, flanked by two of his lackeys, pinned him with an arm across his upper chest; his sneering face just inches away. "I think you need to start watching your step, new boy."

Stiles kept his eyes from rolling, barely. If he was going to rate Jackson on his intimidation practices he would give him a six for this performance and that was being kind. After being face to face with Jackson in his murderous lizard form, human Jackson was sort of a letdown.

Students started gathering around them, forming a wall of curious bodies and peering eyes. Stiles let his years of pent up anger at all the times Jackson had bullied him in school pool in his belly. Instead of struggling he went limp against Jackson's hold, listening with silted eyes as Jackson made his threats and promises of future violence, which was nothing Stiles hadn't heard before.

Pulling back on Stiles' shirt Jackson slammed him into the lockers a final time. "Do you understand me, you little shit?"

Stiles wasn't the same boy that Jackson used to shove around. Werewolves, alpha packs and a crazed druid had changed him. He tilted his head to the side and gave Jackson a lazy look. "Yeah, you fucking douche. I understand you." Stiles swung his leg out, hooking it behind Jackson's knee and pulling while at the same time shoving against his chest with all his strength. He tried not to look smug as the jock tumbled backwards onto the ground.

Jackson was up in seconds, charging across the narrow space ringed by the by-standers with his fist raised. Stiles dodged the punch with ease; the last year of ducking out of the way of clawed danger had helped him build up his speed and agility that made him smile inside. Letting his foot dart out to trip Jackson, sending the jock stumbling into the lockers, was just an extra bonus.

Jackson turned with a snarl that would have done his alternate werewolf self proud. A pair of beefy hands grabbed Stiles from behind and he mentally smacked himself for forgetting about Jackson's hulking friends. The smirk on Jackson's face was classic asshole and Stiles stiffened as he waited for the blow.

"What is going on here?" Harris' voice broke through the crowd sending the teens scattering in all directions leaving only Stiles dangling between the two over-sized brutes and Jackson with his fist in the air. "Whittemore! I think you and your friends need to go visit with the principal." The three slunk away leaving Stiles, slightly out of breath, with Mr. Harris.

"I'm sorry that happened. Fitting in at a new school is hard enough without the extra pressure of bullies attacking you in the hallways. I can assure you that I will be speaking to both the principal and their coach to make sure this does not occur again."

Stiles could only nod as Harris not only stood up for him and offered his protection but walked him half way to his next period keeping up a cheery chatter about afterschool clubs that could help Stiles fit in more quickly and help him make friends.

At the end of the hallway Stiles turned to his teacher. "Thank you Mr. Harris. I'll look into those but I've already made some friends here." Harris smiled and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder before heading back the way he had come. Stiles head gave a semi-painful throb at the weirdness of it all before he turned and made his way to his class, entering the door just as the bell rang.

The day dragged on. Stiles kept an eye out for Jennifer Blake and the freak of nature twins but it seemed like in this reality neither had staked out the high school. Ducking into a stairwell Stiles called Peter to check in.

"You said in your reality that the druid was your English teacher and part of the alpha pack was impersonating the student body. Why would it be different in this reality?" Peter's voice sounded bored and Stiles had a mental image of him cleaning his claws as he spoke on the phone.

"I don't know." Stiles rubbed the back of his neck trying to ease the tension that bundled there. "The only thing I can think of is that Derek, my Derek not your Derek, picked high school kids for his betas. Most of our pack went to high school so if you were going to shadow us, the high school would be your best place to start."

Peter's silence was nerve wracking. Stiles had chewed his thumb nail down to the quick before the alpha spoke again. "You will continue to attend high school and keep an eye out just in case they still arrive but the rest of us will start looking at other areas that they might be hiding."

Agreeing quickly, Stiles hung up and made a dash for lunch. Scott had saved him a seat and was practically bouncing up and down in his own as Stiles approached. "Dude, is it true?"

"What?" Stiles asked around a mouthful of school lunch burrito.

"That you took Whittemore down in a fight. It's all around school. Why didn't you tell me? You need to tell me now. What happened? Did you really knock him out? With Broan and Morris there too?"

The burrito slid down sideways as Stiles half choked at Scott's rapid fire questions. "I knocked him down," Stiles had to wait while Scott and his friends high fived each other and slapped him on the back. "But he got right back up and one of his thugs grabbed me. Jackson would have punched my lights out if Harris hadn't stepped in."

The boys quieted for a moment. "But you stood up to him," Scott smiled at him like he had done something amazing. "You knocked him down and didn't let him give you any shit."

Stiles could only shrug. Scott slapped him on the back again and started telling stories about how Jackson had treated him since the third grade. Stiles listened with wide eyes. Jackson, his Jackson, had never been that cruel.

"Has he always been that much of an ass?" Stiles asked during a lull in their story telling.

"Nah," Scott replied around a mouth full of burrito. "He used to be a little bit better but when Danny died back in middle school he just got worse and worse."

Stiles had a mental flash of Danny collapsing while running track in sixth grade. Danny had been at the back of the field, finishing one last lap while the rest of the class started to walk back inside. Stiles was looking for the house key that he managed to drop along the track and was brushing the sides of the dirt jogging trail when Danny dropped to the ground clutching his chest.

In a panic Stiles had run to get the coach and watched with a franticly beating heart, along with the rest of his classmates, as the ambulance pulled away. He had forgotten that incident over the passing years, not thinking that it was particularly important.

His appetite shriveled to nothing and Stiles pushed his tray away. Scott immediately grabbed the rest of his burrito and ate it in a couple of bites. "There's a party tonight. Wanna come?"

Stiles didn't but he wanted to make sure that he covered as much ground as possible looking for Jennifer and the alpha pack. While Peter had been understanding so far about his not finding any information about them, Stiles didn't want to give him any reason to think he wasn't taking his job seriously.

His quick nod was all that was needed for Scott to start making plans. By the end of lunch they had agreed that Scott would pick them all up at nine so that they were not too early to the party. "It's not cool to be on time." Scott said with an air of worldliness, as if he had ever been cool. Even in his own reality, with the werewolf bite adding a core of inner strength to his friend, Scott had remained his goofy, un-cool self.

Refusing to give in to the urge to roll his eyes, Stiles just smiled and agreed.


	11. A Life at the Party

"A Life at the Party" or "How Peter Shows He Cares"

"Explain to me how going to this little teenage party is supposed to help you find this Alpha Pack you've been worried about or the evil druid you claim is going to start killing virgins any minute now."

Peter didn't sound angry or even that scary; his voice was calm and reasonable. It was the claws that slipped out and were idly picking at the top of his desk where the inlayed leather met the cherry wood that had Stiles tensing up and nervous.

"It was at a party back in my reality that she first started to target her victims. Maybe I'll get lucky and spot her. I know what she looks like, both her 'hot for teacher' look and her 'Freddy Kruger' face."

Peter leaned back in his chair the supple leather didn't creak or groan, just made a warm sigh as his skin ran across the arms. "Is that safe for you? You did say she went after virgins for her first knot. I would hate to lose you as a pack member quite so soon. Not that I'm opposed to using you as bait but if that is the case then there needs to be a hook as well."

Stiles gaped like a landed fish for a moment. He couldn't decide whether he was more offended at being tagged as a virgin by Peter or the fact that the alpha was so willing to dangle him as bait at his earliest convenience.

Peter took in Stiles' sputtering reaction with a snide grin. "Go to your little party but I want you to keep you phone on you at all times. If there is the slightest hint of the Alpha Pack or this durach I want you to call me."

Stiles had a split second to enjoy the idea that Peter was worried about him, a warm tug in his chest, before the alpha added, "I wouldn't want your death to be a waste."

"Uh…thanks," Stiles deadpanned. Peter tilted his head and looked at him, then let his gaze slide over Stiles shoulder to look behind him. His grin grew into a real smile that almost reached his eyes.

Turning Stiles found himself face to face with Derek. "Maybe I should go with you."

"As much as I'd love to be seen with you at a party," Stiles let Derek see the appreciation in his eyes as he looked over the older man's form. "But you are a little too old to be seen at a teenage party. I need to be able to blend with the rest of the kids there. You don't blend." Derek ducked his head, ears turning pink at their tips.

Peter made a pained sound. "Could you two do that someplace else, preferably out of my sight and hearing?" Derek blushed further and reached out to grab Stiles by the hand, practically dragging him out of Peter's office.

"Are you sure going to this party is a good idea? You told us that the girl, the one that was your friend, was grabbed from her own house at a similar party."

"She was alone. I'll make sure I'm with someone at all times so I should be safe. I'll make sure I don't broadcast me virgin status to the world as well, so that should help keep me safe." Spinning to stop Derek with a hand to his chest, a wild stray thought entering his head, Stiles asked. "You can't smell it on me or something, can you? My virgin-ness?"

Derek's eyes widened and sparkled before a chuckle escaped. He didn't even try to stop it, letting his soft laughter fill the short hallway between Peter's office and the living room. Visibly catching his breath, Derek replied, "No, that's not something that has a scent."

"It's not funny," Stiles grumbled as he headed for his room to change into something presentable for the party. He didn't have too many outfits to choose from. Peter had sent his scarily efficient beta out to get him some extra cloths but most of them were just button up shirts and jeans.

Finally he picked a short sleeved, dark rust colored shirt with a pair of dark jeans. The heated look Derek shot him as he exited the hallway bathroom let him know that he had made the right decision. Pulling his shoes on, Stiles had just enough time to ruffle his hair in the mirror before the sound of a horn outside sent him galloping down the stairs.

With a soft smile in Derek direction and a cold shoulder to Peter's call of "try not to die" Stiles slid out the front door and hurried to Scott's car. Even in this reality it was his mother's beat up car. All the dints and bangs were the same. It was strange how something were stayed the same no matter what the reality.

Much to Scott's embarrassment, they did not arrive fashionable late but were instead almost the first people there. Stiles' heart let out a painful double thump at the sight of Heather. It was so good to see her alive. She was plastered against a rangy teen with dirty blond hair and a crooked smile. "They've been best friends since birth," Scott said as he noticed Stiles' interest. "They started dating in middle school and haven't been apart since."

Watching the way Heather's boyfriend ran his hand down her ass, he knew he didn't have to worry about her being a virgin sacrifice in this reality.

Stiles grabbed a drink and found a semi-quiet corner where he could watch eerie versions of the people he knew intermingle and talk. He was so intent on watching people arrive that he didn't even notice he had company until the soft clearing of a throat drew his attention.

Erica shifted her weight backwards as he glanced over his shoulder at her, clearly uneasy. She flashed a shy smile at him from under her lashes before looking back down at the carpet. "Hi."

Stiles remembered suddenly that Erica had mentioned having a crush on him before becoming a werewolf. Looking at her now, her hair straightened and braided down one side, the make-up that was just a little too heavy, and clothing that she was clearly uncomfortable in and he knew that she was trying to get his attention.

"Hi, Erica." He answered with his brightest smile. "It's good to see you." The pleasure of seeing her alive, the guilt of not being able to save her in his own world, and the knowledge that he was most likely giving her false hopes since he wasn't planning on staying here longer than he had to, made his stomach roll and twist momentarily.

Erica soon opened up under Stiles' gentle presence and started to chat as more and more people joined the party. He was unsurprised to find she had a ready wit and spot-on commentary on the people that mostly ignored her each day.

Nodding toward Scott, circling Allison's group, she said sadly, "He's so in love with her but ever since she joined Lydia and Jackson's clique he hasn't had a chance. Allison was really sweet the first couple of weeks when she first came to Beacon Hills. It's too bad, really."

"What happened?" Stiles asked knowing that his Allison was still mostly sweet but with a hidden iron core.

"Her father and aunt were killed. Now she lives with her mother and grandfather. It was really weird for a while. She stopped coming to school for a couple of weeks and then when she got back she was…" Erica paused and shrugged. "She was different, darker, and not as friendly."

Stiles didn't doubt it for a minute. Left alone with her crazy mother and slaughter happy grand-pa, he was sure that Allison was no longer the sweet girl he knew in his world.

He turned away to look for Scott, finding him lurking near Allison with sad eyes, before looking back to find Matt with his arm draped over her shoulders while he stole a sip of her cola.

Responding to his shocked gasp, Erica continued her play-by-play of the relationships that flourished at Beacon Hills. "Matt and Allison have been dating for about six months. He's the photographer for the yearbook so you can guess who will have the most pictures in the yearbook this year."

It felt weird watching Matt. Without Jackson being bitten and turning into the Kanima there was no fear of the teen turning into a revenge fueled killing machine but knowing what he was capable of and watching him cuddle with a girl Stiles considered his friend was more than a little strange.

There was still a creepy quality to Matt's interactions with Allison; the way he watched her when she was not by his side, the side glances at the people that dared talk or touch her, and the possessive way he placed his hand on her back made Stiles cringe. He didn't understand how Allison could be so obvious to his overly possessive actions.

In Jackson's presence, Lydia was still behaving like a brainless fashion model, all glossy lipstick and perfect hair. She hung on every word that came out of the lacrosse captain's mouth while pressed against his side. Stiles missed his Lydia, the strong person she had become in the aftermath of Jackson's turning and the trails she had gone through while discovering her true nature. This Lydia was a pale comparison and it saddened him to see her like this when he knew her potential.

"I heard you stood up to him today." Erica nodded at Jackson. "That was brave of you. He can be really mean if you don't belong in his little, perfect group." The way her voice tightened, losing all its emotion, let Stiles know that she had been a target of Jackson in the past and it had left lasting scars.

"Well, I'm not going to worry about assholes tonight. Not when I have new friends and a pretty girl by my side." Erica looked at him in surprise, a twinkle of hope in her eyes, and Stiles suddenly felt like shit for leading her on. He wasn't trying to deceive her, he just wanted to be nice to her because she had gone through so much in her short life, that and the fact that he couldn't forget his own Erica's death.

"Can I get you a drink?" At her shy nod he headed for the kitchen which had a small mountain of red plastic cups and a wide variety of drinks. Knowing Erica's favorite soda, Stiles scooped up a cup full of ice and poured her a soda before grabbing a can for himself.

Returning just a few minutes later he was surprised to see that Erica had disappeared from their small, quiet corner. Thinking she had gone to the bathroom to freshen up he waited, drinks in hand for her to return. It wasn't until the third song started to play that he wondered what was taking her so long. Placing the drinks on a side table so that he could look for her, Stiles noticed a shimmer of umber and gold on the floor. Lifting it up to the light he stared at the delicate wings in horror.

Dialing Peter's number as he ran down the road, clutching the butterfly in his fist; Stiles prayed that they could find this Erica in time.


	12. Remains in a vault

Peter and Derek find him on the streets about a fourth of the way back to the house, covered in sweat. "She's got her, she got Erica," he managed to pant while trying to gulp in air.

"So the evil druid is working on her three virgin sacrifices. It's a good thing she didn't grab you." Derek shot Peter a look of disbelief over his shoulder.

Stiles just snorted, "Thanks for your concern," mentally adding asshole to the end.

"This is your friend that was a werewolf in your reality, right?" Derek kept a calming arm on his bicep and Stiles didn't even need to see the streaks of black to know that Derek was pulling some of his pain away, he chest no longer burned and he could pull in a full lung full of air without feeling the ache.

"God, she died in my world. I was so happy that she was okay here, that she was going to have a chance at living a full life and now she's been taken by that crazy bitch." Stiles' heart started to race as he struggled with the knowledge that he was helpless to protect Erica. The idea of letting her down again, after the electrocution, the bank vault, and now this was almost too much for him to bear.

Derek climbed over the front seat and caught him by the chin, forcing him to focus on him. "I need you to breathe Stiles. You can't help her if you fall apart. I need you to stay with me and not fall apart."

Stiles clinched his fists until he could feel the blood leaking out the side of his palms, pulling himself together inch by inch. Once he was able to focus on more than his internal struggle he noticed that Derek's eyes were ice blue and Peter's glowing red eyes reflected back from the rear view mirror.

"Wolfing out is not going to help me calm down. Threatening won't help."

Peter snorted from the front. "It's not a threat, idiot. You're distressed and pack, it pulls at our wolves to want to protect you."

Derek nodded blinking and shaking his eyes back to his normal pale hazel. "You need to tell us everything you remember about the murders in your world."

Stiles told them everything from having to ID his friend's body in the morgue to discovering the use of the Telluric Currents as sacrificial sites as well as places the bodies were later left.

"If these points are where she is killing her victims, don't you think it would have been important to tell us that information first?" Peter's dry voice made Stiles want to reach over the seat and smack him on the back of his well coifed head but he was still too happy to keep breathing to do something that stupid.

"I don't remember all the points. There was the pool where Lydia found the boy, outside of school where they found Deputy Graeme, and Scott was able to rescue Deaton from the bank vault."

"So the vault was a killing zone for the darach and the other two were places that she left her kill. Which bank was our kindly vet left to perish?"

"Beacon Hills First National Bank. God! It can't be there. That's where she died in my world. But the alphas took her there with Boyd and Cora. She wasn't killed by Jennifer there."

"Cora?" both wolves echoed suddenly focused on more than just Stiles' impending panic attack.

"You mentioned Cora before to me. Is she alive in your reality?" Derek's hand tightened around Stiles' bicep just a little too tightly as he asked the question.

"She was with Boyd in the vault. The alphas kept them there for months, blocking the light of the full moon until they went moon mad and then engineered it so we set them free to rampage across the town. But you stopped them Derek, kept them from hurting anyone."

"I think this bank vault is the first place we should check. Most of your reality and ours parallels so it would be to our advantage to check known areas from your reality first."

Derek's fingers intertwined with Stiles' as Peter drove the car at precarious speeds through the town's streets. "So Cora's alive?" His voice was tentative, just barely above a whisper. Stiles could see the way his jaw was clinched as they passed under the street lights, the brief flashes showing the white line of tension and the steady tick along his cheek bone from clinching his teeth.

"In my reality she survived the fire but thought the rest of you were dead." Derek took a deep, shuttering breath. Closing his eyes he leaned back against the seat still gripping Stiles' hand in his own.

"We'll start looking for her first thing tomorrow, Derek." Peter's voice held a slight waver, as if he was also trying to control his emotions. Seeing Stiles' startled stare in the rearview mirror, the alpha added "She's family. I've lost enough family to not want to cherish every member that I have left."

The bank came into view quicker than Stiles expected. Peter and Derek were out of the car and tearing the chains and locks off the front door with a screech of metal before Stiles could even get his seatbelt unbuckled.

There was a layer of dust on the floor and Stiles was easily able to follow the wolves' footprints through it but he could also make out another set of prints, one that had slowly been filled in by the passage of time. Swallowing down the sudden dread that made his stomach clinch, he hurried his step to catch up to Derek.

He turned the corner to find Peter pinning a frantic Derek up against a wall, the vault just feet away. The sound coming from the beta's mouth was high pitched and distressed, something that Stiles had never heard from Derek before.

"Let me, Derek." Peter's voice was calm and soothing, not showing the strain of holding his thrashing nephew with the strength of one hand alone. "Enough." The word, though still softly spoken was backed by his full power as an alpha, holding a deeper timber that resonated in the halls of the bank.

Derek slumped in his hold and went to his knees as Peter lowered him to the ground. Stiles found himself wrapping his arms around the huddled form before even realizing he was moving.

Peter turned the heavy lock easily, the sound of the bars pulling back like distant thunder echoing down the short hallway. He pulled back and the door unsealed, releasing a stench into the hallway that had Stiles and Derek both back peddling away from the door. Peter only coughed once but his eyes flashed molten before he stepped over the ledge of the vault door and inside its darkened recesses.

He was only gone a short time but it seemed like forever to Stiles who kept his arms wrapped around the trembling shoulders of Derek. His eyes kept tracking back to the half erased prints in the dust, most were large booted prints but one was feminine and barefooted. The ball of dread in his stomach became larger, filling him with an icy chill.

Peter stepped back out; face pale and haggard as if he had aged in the mere minutes he was inside. Derek looked at his alpha once before burying his face in Stiles' shoulder.

"Oh God," Stiles whispered. "How long?"

Peter stepped closer to Derek, lifting his hand to hover over his nephew's head for a few second before gently placing it on his shoulder. He knelt behind him and pressed his nose against Derek's neck. "I'm sorry. I would do anything to have the power to give you back a sister."

Derek nodded but didn't look up from where he was plastered against Stiles, as if drawing strength from the presence of the thin human. "We need to get her out of there."

"Tomorrow will be soon enough. I'll get the rest of the pack to help me. You don't need to see this, Derek."

Derek's eyes flashed as he turned toward his alpha. "Yes I do." His voice rumbled, deep and powerful. "I was too young when Kate burned our family to do anything but attend the funeral and watch strangers' lower closed coffins into the cold ground. I never had a chance to say good-bye."

He pushed off the ground, dragging Stiles to his feet as well, and faced his alpha. Rising to his full height Derek was just a bit taller than his uncle and much more muscled. He used that to his advantage, stepping into Peter's personal space and forcing him back a step.

"Knowing she survived the fire, that she had a life no matter how short, is a gift I will never forget but losing her, when I just discovered that I had her, is more painful than I could ever imagine. I have to do this Peter and I won't let you stand in my way."

Peter dropped his eyes, letting Derek win the power struggle between them. With a sigh Derek stepped forward only to be stopped by Peter's hand at his throat. "You are distraught over this unexpected loss so I will forgive you this trespassing, but Derek, if you ever challenge me again, last of my family or not, I will put you down."

"Yes, alpha." Derek said as he tilted his chin in submission. Stiles could only try not to swallow his tongue when Peter turned his red eyes on him.


	13. Guilt and Memories

Guilt and Memories

The hallways of the school were their normal crazed bustle of students; some rushing off down the hallway while others loitered against their lockers in tight groups. To Stiles it just seemed like the tide, an ebb and flow that barely touched the shore of his conscious before slipping back out of reach. The only sound that was clear was the pounding in his ears, a steady thrum that made him feel that he had cotton stuffed in his head.

Bodies bumped him but he continued down the hallway, passing Lydia who was surrounded by gaping hanger-ons. Her mascara was artfully streaked giving her eyes a wide, innocent look. Her hand fluttered to her chest, touching the diamond pendant that Jackson had given her just the other day, letting her nails slide under it and sending shimmers of light dancing across the walls.

"She was just lying there. At first I thought she was drunk or something so I was going to wake her up and tell her to go home and sleep it off. But when I got closer I could see the blood." Lydia stuttered to a stop and pressed herself closer to Jackson.

Stiles' heart stuttered in his chest, squeezing like a fist until dark splotches appeared in his vision. Lydia continued her story with a flick of her perfectly curled hair and a quick dab at her eyeliner. "I don't even know why she was at the party. I feel bad because if she had just stayed home where she belonged she would still be alive and I wouldn't be needing therapy."

He couldn't stand to hear anymore. Turning Stiles pushed his way through the masses of students heading down the hallway toward their morning classes and out the door. The memory of Erica … Stiles cut that image off, tried desperately not to see it again in his mind's eye as he slammed out the front doors and down the short flight of stairs.

He could hear Scott's voice calling out to him in confusion and surprise as he hurried by but left his best friend, the shadow of his best friend, on the front lawn of the school as he took off running down the street and back to the pack house.

Tears burned his eyes and his lungs ached for breath as Stiles poured all his energy into running. It had been a mistake to come back to school. The two days of the weekend were not enough time to allow him to overcome the loss, the guilt, the image of Erica and Cora and how he had failed them in this reality as well as his own.

Peter had him before he made it past the front door, halfway toward the stairs. The alpha wrapped him in arms that felt unforgiving and hard before forcing his thrashing form down to the cold tile floor.

"Enough Stiles! I need you to breathe for me. Stop fighting me, damn it. I'm not going to hurt you." But Stiles couldn't stop. His shoes squeaked against the floor as his legs kicked out trying to find purchase. He snapped his head back hoping to take Peter unaware but met only air and the edge of the alpha's shoulder for all his efforts.

Peter tightened his hold, curling around Stiles until the teen's chest was pressed to his knees and his arms were secured, crossed along his chest with his wrists held firmly in Peter's powerful grip. Still he struggled until the last of his energy gave out and his chest shuttered with the need to let the sobs escape.

As soon as his struggles ceased, Peter scooped him up and carried him to the large couch dropping his gently into the center and sitting down on the coffee table across from him, pinning him in place with a stare.

"Why are you home? I thought we agreed that you would return to school and continue your search for the Durach."

"Lydia found her. She found Erica. Jennifer is almost done with her first knot. Even with everything I know from my own reality, I can't stop her here. People keep dying and it's all my fault."

"How is it your fault that a crazy, revenge driven ex-Emissary is killing people in Beacon Hills?" Peter curled his hand around the back of Stiles' neck and pulled him forward until he was resting against his chest.

Stiles forced the urge to struggle down deep and let himself be moved passively by the alpha. Peter huffed gently under his breath. "What was I like in your reality that you are so very afraid of me here?"

"Creepy," Stiles' mouth said before checking with his brain. Peter stiffened and pulled away. Stiles had a moment to wonder if he was going to die quickly or slowly before Peter let his head rock back and laughter filled the room.

"I probably was. I wasn't much better at the beginning here. It was months before my brain healed itself enough for me to realize what I was doing, the blood bath I was leaving in my wake. I was living in a nightmare, the screams of my loved ones still echoing in my mind. I only wanted the pain to stop, the voices to quiet."

Peter leaned closer forcing Stiles to look him in the eye. "I was nothing but instinct and rage but since coming out of my darkness I've only regretted one death, Laura's, and I've tried every day to make it up to Derek."

Standing, Peter let his hand trail over the fine hairs on the back of Stiles' neck. "But how can you ever apologize enough for killing your own family?" With a sad smile Peter left the room, heading into his study and firmly shutting the door.

Stiles was still sitting on the couch an hour later when Derek came home, a bouquet of purple flowers in his hand. "What happened?" he asked dropping down next to him on the couch. Looking a little more closely at the teen Derek let out a small whine and pulled him into a half hug against his side. "They found your friend?"

He tried to hold back the tears as he leaned into Derek's warmth. Derek had just lost a sister for the second time, he didn't need to added strain of comforting Stiles while he cried over a girl he really never knew.

"We buried Cora on Hale property. Peter couldn't see a way of explaining her death to the police and as far as the authorities are concerned she was already dead." Derek's voice took on the strident note Stiles was used to hearing and he realized suddenly how much his Derek was hiding his pain. "I was going to put these on her grave. She always loved purple." Derek let his thumb brush softly across the top on Stiles' hand. "Maybe you could come with me? I'd rather not be alone."

With a nod, Stiles followed Derek out to his car. The drive out to the Hale property was quiet but not uncomfortably so. The smell of the flowers filled the small cab of the car with their calming fragrance and every so often Derek would let his hand brush up against Stiles.

The crunch of gravel alerted Stiles to their arrival at the Hale house. It looked the same as it did in his reality, darkened and burned. Derek quietly led Stiles deeper into the woods until they reached an old oak tree. Freshly turned soil marked to area where Cora was buried but next to it was an older stone marker with LH etched on its smooth surface.

Knowing what to look for, Stiles could see the outline of the wolf's bane laced spiral around the perimeter of the tree. Kneeling he touched the faint marking beneath his feet. "You did this for the other Laura too. I never understood what it meant."

Placing the flowers on the dark earth Derek slid down the trunk of the tree so that he was sitting between his two sisters. "It's a family symbol, a way to honor and remember those lost to us."

Stiles nodded. "I used to leave my mother letters under a rock on her tombstone. I'd write to her like she was just away on a trip or something and not gone forever."

"I was so full of guilt and pain that I could barely function at my family's funeral. I remember that Laura had to hold me as they lowered the coffins into the ground and Deputy Stilinski never left my side. He's a good man, Stiles. Both here and in you reality."

Stiles watched in silence as Derek rested a hand on Laura's marker and tucked the flowers deeper into the soil over Cora's so that the wind wouldn't blow them away.

"It's weird losing her twice. I thought she was dead for so long, I didn't even have time to process that she was alive and now I'm burying her for a second time. I'm not sad, just angry. Angry that I never got the chance to see her again, that the Alpha pack took that away from me, that precious second chance at having part of my family back. It would have been nice for it to be just more than me and Peter."

"I don't understand how you could just forgive him. He killed Laura, took your only sister away from you for power and revenge." Stiles almost bit his tongue as the words spilled out his mouth. One day he was going to learn to think before he spoke.

"It was hard for a while but Peter forgave me. It was because of me that my whole family is dead. Peter lost everything that day, even his sanity."

Stiles' breath hissed through his teeth. "It's not your fault that Kate was a crazy bitch that was raised to hate werewolves by her crazy ass father. She lied to you; let you believe that she loved you. What she did was not your fault."

Derek's fingers carded through the loose soil. "I might not have lit the match but I gave her a way to set the timber aflame."

"Derek," Stiles said reaching across to the older male but Derek stood up in one graceful motion, catching Stiles' outstretched hand and pulling him up as well. "You can't still believe that."

"Logically I know it was not my fault, that she was an evil person and no matter what would have found a way to harm my family. But knowing that here," he tapped the side of his head, "and believing it here," Derek tapped his heart. "It's two separate things."

Stiles understood unfounded guilt, had felt that it was somehow his fault his mother died for years and followed Derek quietly out of the woods and back to the car.

"The idea of me being an alpha is a little terrifying. I've never seen myself in a leadership position. I always knew that Laura would take my mother's place when the time came and that I would either remain as a beta in her pack or join another pack when I found a mate. I can't see myself being a good leader."

"You don't listen enough but you try. You do care about what happens to us even if you don't always show it in the best of ways."

"I least I know I did one thing right." Derek stopped and turned to Stiles. "I made you part of my pack." The kiss was brief, just a brush of his lips against Stiles' flesh but it had his heart racing. "Thank you for coming with me."

"Anytime," Stiles replied breathlessly. He slid into the car while Derek looked sadly around the remains of his childhood home before joining him.

"We'll find a way to stop this Stiles. Find a way to make it right again." Stiles nodded but wondered if anything could ever be fixed. He watched the Hale house disappear in his rear view mirror, the blackened husk getting smaller and smaller until a curve in the road blotted it from his vision.

His life felt like the Hale house. Burnt and empty except for one bright spot. Glancing over at Derek he let a small smile curl on his lips. He reached over and held on to Derek's hand, held on to the only part of this crazy world that didn't make it hard for him to breath and the only part he would miss when he found his way home.


End file.
